


Epilogue - Revisited

by AgentZee



Category: Mumintroll | Moomins Series - Tove Jansson
Genre: Gen, Moominpappa's Memoirs, Retelling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-21
Updated: 2017-01-21
Packaged: 2018-09-19 00:09:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9408737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgentZee/pseuds/AgentZee
Summary: The final chapter of Moominpappa’s Memoirs, retold from Snufkin’s perspective. There will be [happy] tears.





	

**Author's Note:**

> One of my older works, written to celebrate Moomin Day (August 9th) in 2015. Though I feel it could have been written better, it still holds a special place in my heart.

Scarcely a month had passed since Moominpappa read the first chapter of his Memoirs to his family, and since Snufkin learned of the existence of a family of his own. He guessed that he must have had parents at some point in his life but never gave it much thought, not until Moominpappa had told them all about the brave exploits and heroic adventures that he shared with his own friends back in the days when he was younger.

Knowing that he had parents and that they might still be out there somewhere in the world filled Snufkin with a bittersweet feeling of both excitement and melancholy. He knew that he _must_ meet them one day, and he wanted to find them so terribly even if it meant searching from one end of the earth to the other… but would it really be worthwhile?  
If they really existed, why didn’t he remember them? And why didn’t _they_ come looking for _him_? Did they miss him at all? Or did they forget him the way he forgot them? He couldn’t bear to imagine the answers to these questions; it was far too sad.

One day, Moominpappa had finished writing the very last chapter of his Memoirs and he gathered his entire family to read it aloud to them. It was a chilly, rainy evening – Perfect for listening to a story – and yet, Snufkin felt restless. Listening to Moominpappa telling them about his youth was nice, but it wasn’t enough for Snufkin; he had to know more about his parents, and what became of them, and where they were these days, and the fact Moominpappa had no answers to offer frustrated him more than he dared say. Still, he _had_ to know…

He had only just expressed these thoughts when three hard knocks were heard on the front door and a voice that he did not recognize called out to be let indoors as the person outside was seeking shelter from the rain; he was certain that he knew everyone in Moominvalley, and this person’s singular way of speech made clear that he was from some place very far away.

As Moominpappa hurried to open the door and cried out Hodgkins’ name, a sudden rush surged through Snufkin’s body. _Hodgkins_. Moominpappa had told them a lot about this dear childhood friend of his, and suddenly there he was, standing in the doorway to Moominhouse.  
Of course, this was extraordinary enough of an event as it was, but Snufkin sensed that there was something much more extraordinary waiting for them all… although he couldn’t quite guess what it was. This feeling was ever so powerful, however, and every second that passed felt like an eternity to him as his adrenaline rush was beginning to make him dizzy and lightheaded. So lightheaded he was that he did not even bat an eye at the sight of the infamous island ghost that creeped out of Hodgkin’s knapsack, saying something or other about the old bones of the damned in its terrible hollow voice.

 _What else is going to happen tonight?_ He wondered. _Next we’ll find our long lost parents standing at the door._

Moominmamma was just about to offer a drink to these new guests when Hodgkins mentioned the other people he had brought along with him, who were waiting outside in the rain. “A few parents,” he said… and that was all that was needed to snap Snufkin out of his stupor as he leaped out of his seat and bolted to the door.

He had to step back as a couple walked in through the threshold hand in hand, each of them carrying heavy luggage in their free hands. One of them wore a saucepan on his head like a hat and a fluffy scarf was secured around his neck with an oversized safety pin, while the other wore a delicate pink dress and bore an uncanny resemblance to the little animal, Sniff. Sure enough, these were the Muddler and the Fuzzy, and they wasted no time as they hurried inside to hold their son in their arms and shower him with gifts from their personal collections.  
  
In his excitement, Snufkin had almost forgotten about his small friend who must have been just as thrilled with the occasion as he was. A smile spread on his face as he turned to look at how happy the three of them were, and he almost began to wonder when his own special moment was going to happen… when it did.

His attention was quickly drawn away from Sniff and his family as he heard more steps coming up from the entrance and a dark figure slowly stepped inside the house. Every piece of clothing on this man’s body – From the wide brimmed hat on his head to his long coat to the boots on his feet – seemed to be extremely old and travel-worn, though they were nowhere near as old and travel-worn looking as the man himself. Between his lips there was a crooked black pipe that seemed to have gone out long ago – perhaps due to the rain – and he looked disheveled and slumped and tired, as if his weary bones could barely support his weight; all the same, there was certain alertness in his eyes like a spark of flame that bewitched Snufkin as they made eye contact.

His mind a blur and his feet quicker than they had ever been, Snufkin dashed straight to the man who was no other than his father and threw his arms around him in the tightest, most desperate hug he had ever given anyone.   
A cry of surprise escaped the Joxter as his son nearly knocked him off his feet (and he would have been, had Snufkin not hugged him the way he did), but Snufkin hardly noticed. He forgot at once all he knew about manners and dignity and first impressions and buried his face in his father’s chest and wept, his emotions flooding him. Laughter rose from the Joxter’s chest like a low rumble of distant thunder as he pocketed his pipe and held his son close to him, returning the hug. His arms felt surprisingly strong, despite his frail and worn appearance.

Snufkin wanted to say something, anything, but a massive lump formed in his throat whenever he opened his mouth to speak and so he simply continued to cry as his feelings threatened to choke him. He felt his father’s long bony fingers running through his hair as he whispered to him, “Hush now, it’s alright.” His voice was deep and throaty like a cat’s purr, and although Snufkin did not find it familiar, it comforted him all the same.  
After a moment that seemed to last forever, Snufkin loosened the hug and tried to take a few breaths in a seemingly futile attempt to calm down, as every breath he drew in brought on several squeaky sobs that only made him want to cry more. The Joxter merely smiled as he raised his hand to gently wipe the tears from his son’s face.  
Several breaths and few sobs later, Snufkin finally found himself able to speak. “Oh, just _look_ at me! Crying like a silly child!”  
The Joxter laughed again, a pleasant, kind laugh, and Snufkin began to feel more and more at ease. “It’s alright”, the Joxter repeated, and only when he raised his eyes to look at his father in the face did Snufkin notice that he had shed a few tears of his own.

Try as he might, Snufkin couldn’t find anything else to say, not when he still had trouble fully comprehending what was happening. There he was, in Moominhouse, with his father, his _own_ father, and he was crying profusely like a little baby and making an awfully embarrassing spectacle of himself. The longer he stood there dumbfounded with tears streaming down his face, the sillier he felt. But his father only smiled at him, not once did he seem embarrassed for him, as if he expected Snufkin to react in this exact way. He stroked Snufkin’s tear-stained cheek and kindly said to him, “You are so much like your mother.”  
Now it was Snufkin’s turn to laugh, and his laughter brought him relief. He wiped the remains of his tears with the sleeve of his coat and tried to regain his composure, clearing his throat.

“By the way, where is-?”

The answer to his question came in an instant even before it left his lips in its entirety, when a new voice boomed from the entrance to the house. “Where is he? Where’s my little boy?”

“Does that answer your question?” The Joxter smirked and stepped aside to allow his son and the newcomer have a clearer view of each other.  
Never in his life had Snufkin seen a Mymble larger than the one who was now standing before him. She easily towered over everyone else in the room and was a hundred times rounder than he ever imagined she would be. _Moominpappa had underestimated you, Mother_ , he thought to himself, as a seemingly endless stream of little children followed her through the door, along with a younger Mymble who was busying herself with counting them all; he guessed that this was his mother’s eldest daughter… and his elder sister.

For a moment he did not understand what made his father think that he shared any similarities with this lady, until he noticed the large tears that formed in her eyes and streamed like rivers down her cheeks as she spotted him. Surprisingly graceful in her movement, she stormed over to him, her beautiful dress billowing around her and her voice high with excitement, “There he is!”  
In one smooth motion, she wrapped her strong arms around him and hoisted him off his feet and into her bosom in a bone crushing hug. “Oh my darling, my little baby!”

 ** _Vastly_** _underestimated, this one_ ; he would have laughed at this thought of his had he not struggled to breathe in the Mymble’s iron grip. “I’m happy to see you too, Mother,” he gasped. Strong as she was, she also felt soft and warm and inviting, and as she held him close to her he found that she smelled familiar. _Just like any mother ought to be_ , he supposed.

“Oh dear me,” she suddenly said as she relaxed the bear hug she was giving her son; apparently the Joxter (who was still standing nearby) felt it was time to gently remind her to control herself, lest she accidentally crush Snufkin into dust.  
“So sorry, my love, my emotions so easily get the best of me,” she apologized as she put him down as gently as she could while fussing with his coat. _It’s no use trying to smooth it out with your hands; my clothes are always crumpled and shapeless,_ he thought, though he did not dare say it aloud. His immediate discomfort made way for amusement, and he tried his best to hide his laughter behind the kindest smile he could muster (while desperately hoping that it didn’t accidentally turn into a grimace).

Once the Mymble decided she had done her best to fix the terrible wrinkly mess that was Snufkin’s coat, she knelt in front of him and gently cupped his chin in her hand, “Now, let me look at you!”  
He removed his hat from his head and held it behind his back as he did his best to stand as tall and still as he could while she looked him up and down, a shy smile on his face and a flush of pink in his cheeks.  
“Oh, you’ve grown _so_ much,” she finally said, sounding sincerely impressed. “What a handsome young man you’ve become!” Snufkin placed his hat back on his head and turned to look away from his mother, trying to hide the blush in his cheeks as much as he could when he heard her giggling and saying how _precious_ and _cute_ his embarrassment was.

All of this proved to be far too much attention than he was prepared for, and although he did think both his parents very nice, he was beginning to feel rather uncomfortable. Still, he reminded himself that this was exactly what he wished for earlier the same evening, and so he convinced himself to pull through this momentary discomfort for the sake of his family. Truth of the matter, his parents _were_ very nice, and he found that he liked them both very much, even if his father seemed a lot more weary than he thought he would be and his mother was so very fond of tight hugs and kisses and other such physical expressions of affection.

He heard his mother gush further about how very small he used to be the last time she’d seen him and how big he was now, when a shrill little voice cried out from somewhere above him, making him lose his train of thought. “He’s grown _too_ much, if you ask me!”  
“Little My?” He suspected that his very small sister had climbed onto his hat after he removed it from his head and held it behind his back. She was so very small that he didn’t feel her weight on his head at all.   
“Just My to _you_ , mister!” She lowered herself upside down from the brim of his hat to stare him right in the face, her angry little eyes aflame. “I’m your _big_ sister, get it right! What rotten luck, how come he’s so big and I’m still so small?”  
“Have some patience, My, you’ll be bigger than all of us one day,” the Joxter purred, as kindly as he could, though Snufkin could tell right away that he was trying his best not to laugh.  
“I better!” Little My exclaimed as she took a brave leap from Snufkin’s hat onto the Joxter’s shoulder and made herself comfortable in the scarf he wore around his neck.

Looking around him, Snufkin suddenly realized how crowded the Moomins’ house had become after all these guests arrived. There was Moominpappa’s old friend Hodgkins, the island ghost, Sniff’s parents, his own parents, and the Mymble’s many children who were running about unsupervised. Including him and the Moomin family, it seemed as if the house was full to its bursting point.

Moominmamma was hurrying here and there, handing out drinks and treats and making sure that every single one of her guests felt right at home.  
In the meantime, he had found himself engaged in conversation with both of his older sisters; his sister Mymble (who was named after their mother) tried to convince him to come and live with them, while Little My (who by then moved to sit in her sister’s pocket) insisted that it was pointless because Snufkin looked like he could barely handle her alone, “And if he can’t handle _me_ , how will he be able to live with thirty five of us?”

Snufkin’s eyes widened on their own and his voice trembled, “Thirty five?!”

“Thirty four, actually, last time I counted them,” said Mymble. “Thirty five including My.”

Snufkin stared at his sister, his face expressing all the shock he couldn’t bring himself to say aloud. Mymble simply shrugged, “Mother is a free spirit.”

“And the way your daddy is fawning over our Mamma, we’ll have many more brothers and sisters soon enough!”

“Hush! Watch your tongue, My, where are your manners?”

Little My only laughed her terrible screech of a laugh in response and curled herself up inside her sister’s pocket.

Snufkin looked at the Joxter and noticed that his attention did seem to be focused entirely on the Mymble at that moment; he seemed almost hypnotized, looking up at her and holding her hand like a needy child, his fingers intertwined with hers, while she was immersed in conversation with the other parents.   
Snufkin stood there watching his father from a distance, when his eyes suddenly shifted to look at him and a peculiar smile spread across his face. _He knows that I’m looking_. A shiver went up Snufkin’s spine and although he hesitated for a moment, he decided to approach his father anyway. He had so many questions he wanted to ask, so many things he wanted to know, and now that he wasn’t crying anymore he had the perfect opportunity to do just that.

Before a single word left his lips, however, Hodgkins and Moominpappa cried out for silence and they all lifted their eyes to them.

“Tomorrow, the adventure will continue!” Declared Hodgkins, “We’ll fly off in the Oshun Oxtra! Everyone! Mothers, fathers, and children!”

“Not tomorrow,” cried Moomintroll, “Tonight!”

As the most of them cheered in agreement and gathered together to make their leave, Snufkin felt his excitement returning to him in full force, filling him up from the tips of his toes to the top of his hat and he boldly grabbed his father’s arm and pulled him along before he could object.  
They both ran outside – Snufkin in the lead and the Joxter trying his best to keep up – and skidded to a halt as the Oshun Oxtra came into view. The amphibian ship was infinitely more impressive than Snufkin had ever dared to dream, and he stood there staring at its magnificence and imagining to himself all the wonderful adventures it would take them to.


End file.
